


Christmas Time Is Here Again

by xspike4evax



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, The Originals (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen, Not a Crossover
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-06
Updated: 2017-12-28
Packaged: 2019-02-11 08:37:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12931599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xspike4evax/pseuds/xspike4evax
Summary: Collection of stand alone Christmas/holiday one shots/drabbles/ficletsNo cross oversAll mature entries will be marked with an (M) in the title so can be easily skipped over.





	1. The Secret of Christmas

**Author's Note:**

> Giles reminds a glum scooby gang of the true sentiment of the season
> 
> Title is the song written by Jimmy Van Heusen, Sammy Cahn for, and performed by, Bing Crosby

"I hate demons," Buffy declared with a scowl. "Look at my hair. It took forever to get it just right and now I look like I've been dragged through a hedge backwards. And Willow, her dress is ruined and it was brand new."

"What about me?" Xander piped up indignantly from where he was lying flat out on the floor. "I can't even move. My spine's all bruised." 

Sitting on the arm of the sofa Willow let out a sigh and flopped backwards, bouncing a little on the sofa cushions. "What a night." 

"It's all ruined," Buffy said with a pout, kneeling beside the sofa and resting her head beside Willow's. "Again, I hate demons." 

"Especially vampires," Xander added. "Don't they know it's Christmas? Don't they realise we have party plans? Can't they give us just one night off?" 

Buffy sighed heavily. "We were so meant to be Bronzing tonight and now the nights almost over and we never even saw a piece of tinsel." 

Anya appeared from the bathroom and knelt beside Xander with a glass of water and pain killers. "I don't know what you're all complaining about, I'm the one whose boyfriend can't...."

"We get it," Willow said quickly. 

Anya huffed, holding Xander's head to allow him to drink and take his tablets. "Then you see that I'm the one who's going to suffer the most." 

"I hope this isn't the beginning of a non-fun Christmas. We work hard, we save the world, we need a little bit of fun," Buffy said. "What do you think, Wills?" 

"I'm thinking vampires and demons probably celebrate the holidays a little differently to the rest of us," Willow said. "And they're not going to take a vacation." 

Buffy and Xander groaned.

Emerging from the kitchen with a cup of tea, Giles glanced around at their messy attire and glum faces. "Christmas isn't about parties. It isn't about presents or a tree. Christmas is about being together, being with the people we hold most dear. With the job we do, there'll be many more missed parties and ruined dresses. But the thing to remember is that we've all been through so much and we've come out the other side. We're all together, we're safe," he paused and smiled, a small chuckle on his lips. "If not happy and a little battered and bruised."

"You're right, Giles," Willow said. 

Buffy sighed again, lips pursing. "You always do a good job at making us ashamed of ourselves, Giles."

Giles chuckled again. "That wasn't my intention, I wanted to make you feel better and maybe remind you of the true sentiment of the season; peace on earth and good will to all."  
The door suddenly swung open and Spike staggered in, bottle of beer dangling from his fingers. He eyed Willow, who was now propped up on her elbows to peer over the sofa, watching him weave his way across the room. 

"You're in my bed, witch." Spike took a swallow of beer. "Wanna sleep with me, hum?" 

His foot caught in the rug and Spike stumbled forward, hitting the arm of the sofa. His body jerked and the bottle flew from his fingers, landing and spinning across the coffee table spraying beer all over the place. Willow gave a startled cry and Buffy had just enough time to grab Willow and roll her onto the floor before Spike upended over the arm and fell face first into the sofa. 

Buffy grunted as Willow landed on her and they lay there for a moment in a tangled heap. 

Willow wiggled backwards on to her knees, pushing her hair out of her face. "Thanks, Buff. He'd have crushed me." 

"Stupid vampire," Buffy muttered. 

"Spike?" Willow touched Spike's head with light fingers, but he didn't even twitch. "I think he's passed out." 

"At least someone had a good time tonight," Anya said, snagging a tissue from the nearby box and dabbing at her beer spotted skirt. "Spike had the sense to go out before the crisis."

Xander wiped beer from his face. "Hey, G-Man, you know that peace and good will thing you were talking about, it doesn't include Spike, does it?" 

Giles stared at his wet coffee table, at the bottle of beer spilling over the edge into a pool, soaking into the carpet. "I think.... I think that would be a judgment call."


	2. A Carol for Camille

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A conversation with Cami leads Klaus to procure a very special Christmas gift.

From the doorway of the café, Klaus watched Cami unnoticed. There were carol singers at the entrance to the park and Cami stood listening to them. Her arms lifted and she hugged herself about the waist. Klaus’ chest tightened at the defensive, comforting gesture. He wanted to offer her the comfort she needed. He wanted to obliterate the cause of her distress. 

Tucking her hair behind her ear, Cami lifted her shoulder bag from where it swung at her hip and began to root around inside it, juggling the bulky shopping bag she held in the other hand. She produced a purse and fished out some money, moving in closer to the carollers to drop the money into the box provided. 

Klaus crossed the street to stand near her, smiling when she realised he was there and jumped a little. 

She shot him an annoyed look, but he could tell from the slight tilt of her lips that she wasn’t really cross with him. The look in her eyes told him she welcomed his presence, that he wasn’t intruding on a private thought. 

“You look contemplative.” 

Cami’s shoulders lifted in a small shrug. “I like carols. Don’t you?”

“I do. When performed well. Nothing worse than listening to somebody butcher a song of praise.” 

“I think they’re pretty good,” she said. 

Klaus nodded. “They are.” He produced a few notes from his pocket and dropped them into the collection box. He eyed the shopping bag. “Last minute Christmas shopping?”   
“Sort of. I saw something in the window and I had to buy it for Elijah.” 

Klaus started. “Elijah?” 

There was a little niggling jealousy squirming to life inside him. His brother had spent many days alone at the safe house with Cami, and yet he hadn’t ever thought, and had not been aware, they had grown so close that she would purchase a Christmas gift for Elijah. 

He wondered, was there a brightly wrapped gift under her tree with his name on the tag? 

“Hum.” Cami smiled, a half laugh escaping her. “Trivial pursuits.” 

Klaus’ eyebrows lifted. “The board game?” 

“Just a little joke I think he’ll appreciate. It’s just a silly gift.” 

“I’m sure he’ll appreciate the thought and the sentiment behind it.” Klaus made a mental note to ask Elijah about it on Christmas Day. He wouldn’t spoil Cami’s fun by mentioning it before then. 

“You enjoyed your time alone with my brother?” If it came out a little more forceful and demanding than he would have liked, Klaus was saved any need for explanation as Cami didn’t seem to notice. A far off look came to her eyes and her face was suddenly pinched. Automatically Klaus reached for her arm, wanting to take the pain away, wanting to apologise for causing it in the first place. 

“Sometimes,” Cami said softly. “Sometimes I don’t think you realise how lucky you are. You and Elijah fight, but you have all the time in the world to make up. You’ve had your brother with you for a thousand years. My brother,” she paused, took a steadying breath. “My brother, who was good and kind and decent, will always be remembered as a murderer. As someone who flipped out and massacred a bunch of people and then killed himself. It was hard enough dealing with it before, but knowing the truth, knowing he did it because of a witches hex sometimes makes it harder. His memory forever tarnished and there’s nothing I can do about it.”

“You love him. You know the truth. Try and let that be enough for you and don’t tear yourself apart trying to change what has been,” Klaus advised gently. 

“Sean loved Christmas. We both did. He used to sing in the church choir and he especially loved singing carols. The Carol of the Bells was his favourite. I listened to it yesterday and, it was ok,” she admitted. “I just felt peace.” Cami looked up at him. “Because of you. I know I was angry at you for compelling me, and I’m still mad about that.” 

His head tilted and he gave her a crooked smile. “Still?” 

“Still.” She smiled anyway. “But you said you’d find out the truth and you did. Your compulsion made me at peace with Sean’s death, but it wasn’t really real, was it? You told me the truth and now I’m at peace. Thank you, Klaus.” 

Klaus nodded once. “Your welcome, Camille.” 

She let out a sudden startled exclamation and quickly checked her watch. “Oh, I have to go. I’m meeting Vincent for drinks and,” she laughed, backing away, “I have to wrap Elijah’s extremely expensive present. Goodbye, Klaus.” She turned away, hoisting her bag higher on her shoulder before pausing and glancing back at him. “If I don’t see you, Merry Christmas, Klaus.” 

He nodded, watching her hurry off and disappear into the Christmas crowds. 

XxX

Christmas morning, Cami groped through the fog of sleep towards wakefulness. She blinked and pushed her hair back, propping herself up on her elbow, listening carefully.   
It wasn’t part of a dream. She could hear singing. 

Swinging out of bed she pulled on her fluffy dressing gown, slid on her red slippers with the white pom-pom at the toes, something she’d bought just for fun for the holidays, and padded to the window. The window squeaked as it slid up, and she wondered idly why it did that for her and yet Klaus managed to creep in without making a sound. 

The singing was clear now, so crystal clear in the quiet morning air. Cami leant out of the window and gaped at the carol singers below in the street. She knew instantly who had sent them, her heart filled and her chest expanded; emotion racing through her so intensely she couldn’t find a name for all that she was feeling. 

They were singing The Carol of The Bells.


	3. The Christmas Card (Spike/Willow)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Willow receives a mysterious Christmas Card

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Christmas Card from nekid_spike festive prompts over on LJ

Willow scurried into Giles apartment, cheeks flushed. Shrugging off her coat, she made a bee line for the kitchen where Buffy was busy cutting herself a generous slice of Christmas cake. 

"Hey, Wills." Buffy eyed the red envelope Willow hugged close to her chest. "What's the what?" 

"I've got something to show you," Willow whispered. "It was on the mat this morning." 

"Mat?" 

"Been posted through the door," Willow explained. "Look." She handed the envelope to Buffy.

A curious look on her face, Buffy opened the envelope to find a card depicting a wintery scene. "You don't celebrate Christmas." 

shrugged. "It says happy holidays. I guess that's okay. Just look inside, Buffy." 

Buffy laughed. "Okay. Okay. Give me a minute." She opened the card, lips moving silently as she read. "Wow, Wills." 

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" 

Buffy nodded. "But, it's... it's not signed." 

Willow was gratified Buffy sounded just as disappointed as she felt. "I know. It's maddening." 

"I've heard of a secret valentine but never a secret Christmas card. Do you have any idea who wrote it?" 

Willow shook her head, a dreamy little sigh left her lips. "But I know he'll be smart and sensitive and, sort of sad."

"Sad?" 

"He sounds sad," Willow said, her fingers touching to the card. 

"Only because he's busy pining away over you." Buffy grinned and poked Willow in the ribs. "Hey, wait a minute. Look, this line here "you were so warm in my arms, like no other before" and this one "do you remember?" it sounds like someone you've had a relationship with." 

"Well that narrows it down to two people. Oz and Xander. I think we can safely rule out Xander. And I don't think its Oz." 

Buffy pursed her lips. "I don't know, Wills. Take this line "see the stars caress your body" and this one; "a name covered in filth and shame". Oz is a wolf, so you know, night time. And he's part demon now. Who knows what he might have been through trying to control the wolf. Besides, what he did to you was pretty shameful."

"It doesn't sound like Oz," Willow said dubiously. "Oz would say nice things. Lovely things. But nothing like this. Even as a musician he wasn't poetic. He wrote the music not the lyrics."

"So someone sort of new. He has to be someone you know, someone you've been close to." 

Willow spread her arms wide with a huff. "But I can't think of anyone." 

Giles suddenly cut into their conversation. "Buffy, patrol time." 

Buffy sent a longing look at the slice of cake sitting untouched on the plate. "All right. But don't eat my cake, okay? It's going to be my reward for patrolling." 

"That's pretty good, Buff," Xander said. "Getting paid for Slaying in cake." 

Buffy laughed. "Well, slaying helps me work it all off, so why not." She turned to head out of the kitchen to discover Spike loitering in the doorway. "What are you doing?" she demanded. 

"Nothin'," Spike snapped. 

"Sneaking and snooping around," Buffy muttered. "Eavesdropping on people's conversations." 

Spike snorted. "Got better things to do with my time than worry 'bout what you're talkin' about, Slayer. Like count the cracks in the ceiling." 

Giles head popped back up from his book. "There are no cracks in my ceiling." 

Willow smiled, tucking the card into her bag and putting on her coat. She could hardly wait to finish patrolling and get back here to try and decipher the mystery of the Christmas card with Buffy. 

"I'd rather be paid in cash than cake," Anya announced as they left the apartment with Spike trailing behind them, cigarette clamped between his lips and eyes sending death rays at Buffy's back. 

When they reached the cemetery they had a brief discussion at the gates before deciding to split up. Buffy, Xander and Anya went right while Willow went with Spike to the left. 

Willow was hardly aware of where she was going. She had a vague sense of Spike beside her and automatically followed him, her mind on the writer of the Christmas card. The sweet, sad words of the poem. They touched something deep inside her, as she had apparently touched something deep inside him. It was something she could hardly fathom. She had thought Oz would have been the love of her life, but as it turned out, he had left her, she hadn't been enough for him. But she was enough for someone; she just had no idea who it was. 

She was so wrapped up in thoughts of the secret admirer that the two vampires seemed to materialise out of thin air. They leapt out of the shadows so suddenly that Willow found herself sailing into a nearby tree, cracking her forehead painfully on the trunk. She bounded off the tree so forcefully her body did a half spin as she hit the ground rolling and finally stopped face down in the damp, cold grass. 

Willow groaned, eyes half open. Her head throbbed, her vision was blurred and there was the sticky feeling of blood creeping across her forehead . From her prone position, world at an angle, Willow saw Spike's temper flare, his human face melting away as he growled, caught hold of the vampire who had hit her and slam him backwards into a tree, using a protruding branch as a make shift stake. The vampire exploded into dust. 

Spike then threw himself at the remaining vampire. The two exchanged blows; Spike ducking and dodging the woman's failing fists, although she did land a fair few knocks, giving Spike a bloody lip and what Willow was sure would result in a black eye. 

Finally, Spike landed a smooth right hook. The woman spun sideways and Spike gave her a vicious kick to the ribs, toppling her over a headstone. He produced a stake from his pocket and drove it into the woman's back, straight through to her heart; the air was filled with dust for a moment and then all was silent. 

Spike pocketed the stake and hurried to Willow. Kneeling behind her, he rolled her backwards over his knees, propping her against the cushion of his shoulder, his arms circling her tightly.  
"Willow? Willow, are you all right?" His face returned to the smooth human facade as he stroked her forehead, wiping at the blood smearing her skin. 

She groaned again, eyes closing with the pain. 

"Willow, love," Spike murmured, cheek resting against her temple. "You've got to be careful. So careful. You're so fragile, easy to hurt. What would I do if something happened to you, hum?" 

"Me?" Willow squeaked. 

His lips brushed against her ear and he spoke in a whisper. "I would walk through the morning, the sweet early morning; to see the glow of dawn on your face."

Willow blinked, the same stirring inside her coming to life as when she had first read the words in the Christmas card. 

"You were so warm in my arms, unlike any before. Do you remember?" 

Very suddenly Willow did remember. "In my dorm room. When you were going to bite me, you had your arms around me at one point." 

"Uh huh. Knew you'd remember." Spike smoothed her hair back behind her ear, gazing down at her with soft, gentle eyes. "I want to be beside you. See the stars caress your body. Sometimes I see you undressing for me. My sweet, soft Willow; a beauty you'd be."

Willow gaped at him. His voice sounded different somehow, more reverent, bringing to life the words which had touched her deeply and touched her deeper still now they were spoken by the one who had written them. The one who felt them.

"You give me so much, yet I need so much more. If I offered my love, would you turn away. See only a name covered in filth and shame. I hope to be more than what you see. That you would accept every part of me. My arms are open wide. I'm just a man working for your smile." 

Spike smiled slightly, thumb tracing her lips for a moment. "Life was dull and dark until you smiled at me. Now every day, with you in it, is like Christmas Day." 

"You." Willow breathed, eyes wide, her mind struggling to catch up. 

"Are you disappointed?" 

Willow shook her head and winced, wishing she hadn't when Spike faded out for a moment. "Confused. Surprised. Not disappointed, Spike. I knew," she said quietly. "I knew you'd be smart and sensitive and sad." Reaching up Willow touched her fingertips to his temple. "I understand why you're sad, Spike."

He nodded. Willow was the only one who attempted to offer any sort of understanding for his chipped predicament. 

Curling her hand around his neck, Willow applied the smallest amount of pressure and Spike's heart flipped. He could scarcely believe it; he had written poetry for a woman who liked it. He had the woman of his dreams in his arms right this second, and she wanted to kiss him. 

Spike's lips barely grazed hers and still his head tilted and whirled and lit up like a firework from the contact. Her lips parted and Spike's tongue touched hers, stealing a taste of ambrosia. His arms tightened around her, he hauled her closer and deepened the kiss. 

The kiss was better than he'd imagined. Hotter than he'd hoped and more electrifying that he had dreamed it could be. She was ruining him for all other kisses and all other women. It had to be Willow or no-one. 

She gasped when he finally let her up for air, fingers gripping to the back of his neck as she panted. Willow gazed at him, eyes bright with awareness and shock. She swallowed, a tumultuous confusion of feelings and sensations flowing through her. 

There was only one thing Willow could think of to say, and somehow she knew it was the right thing. "Merry Christmas, Spike." 

Spike smiled and kissed her forehead. "Happy Hanukah, baby."


	4. Good King Angelus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angelus, William, Drusilla and Darla enjoy a festive night

Detaching his fangs from the servant’s neck, Angelus gave the body a shove and it slipped off the table to the polished wooden floor with a dull thunk. Licking his lips, he sat back in the chair and swung his legs onto the dining table. He did enjoy Christmas, the wealthy were always so eager to out do each other with sumptuous Christmas feasts. He much preferred his own party and his own feasting. Tucking his hands behind his head, feeling like a King, Angelus surveyed the carnage around him with a smile; the mingled scent of spilled blood and pine from the Christmas tree was pleasing.

Darla was over by the fireplace, expertly stripping sapphire jewellery from the Countess. She turned to face him, her blonde hair tumbling from its clips, the ends slightly stained with blood following the hunt. She held up the jewellery which sparked in the light from the flames and placed the dangling droplet earring to her earlobe for his consideration. The blue stones looked cold against her pale skin, the perfect combination. Angelus nodded his approval and Darla smiled.

Drusilla wandered into the room, sliding a sprig of holly into her hair. Her pale grey dress, of which she had been so proud, was splattered with blood. She hummed Good King Wenceslas as she came up to the table eyeing the dead body of the Baron sprawled across the table where she had last left him. The Baron’s blood had oozed from the wound on his neck and was spreading across the surface, the plates, crystal goblets and silverware scattered about from the fight for freedom. Drusilla dipped her fingers into the blood and began to trace patterns across the table.

Unconsciously Angelus began to hum along with her, enjoying the post feasting bliss. “You know, I think my favourite line in that carol is the one that goes “bring me flesh and bring me wine”."

Darla’s skirts rustled as she moved about the room. She collected the brandy decanter from the sideboard and placed it at his elbow as she passed. “Here’s your wine.” 

Angelus caught her wrist, bringing it to his lips. He stared up at her through dark hooded eyes. “And my flesh?”

Drusilla came to kneel at his feet, offering up her bloody fingers. “Sweet Willie has the sweetest flesh, daddy dearest.” 

“Hum.” Angelus licked at her fingers, a contemplative look on his face. “Where is the boy?” 

A sudden scream tore through the house and Drusilla smiled knowingly. “Still playing. All fun and games with my William.” 

The sound of racing footsteps reached them and Angelus leant forward in his chair to see all that there was to be seen. The maid appeared, bolting out of the kitchen, prim white hat long gone, sensible black dress torn and stained and her long dark hair a matted mess. The gaping wound on her neck was beautifully eye catching. 

William appeared, almost skipping along in the maid’s wake, a gleeful look on his face, his cravat completely askew, his coat nowhere to be seen and his breeches stained with blood. There were long scratches down his left cheek and Angelus chuckled. 

The maid reached the door and tugged, but it had been locked long ago to keep the rats in the maze. She screamed again when William closed in on her, catching her roughly by the back of the neck.

“Haven’t you ever heard of silent night, boy?” Angelus taunted. “I was enjoying the quiet.” 

William glanced through the door and frowned at Angelus. “Just because you’ve killed all yours is no reason to spoil my fun.” 

Angelus chuckled, releasing Darla and uncoiling from the chair he patted Dru’s head as he left the dining room to join William in the foyer. He pressed up against William’s back, feeling him tense at the sudden intrusion into his personal space. “Wouldn’t want to spoil your fun,” he murmured into William’s ear. 

He closed his eyes and could almost imagine for a moment that the erratic beat of the maid’s heart and her heavy panting breaths belonged to William. 

“Just thinking of all the fun there is to be had.” Leaning in closer, Angelus licked at the scratches on William’s cheek. “Dru was right, you do have the sweetest flesh.”


	5. Baby, It's Cold Outside (Spillow) (M)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spike’s determined to convince Willow to stay in bed with him.

Willow stretched luxuriously, the sheet slipping down over her chest to expose one pert breast. She chanced a glance up at Spike who was propped against the headboard enjoying his post-coital cigarette. He smirked at her. Of course he'd noticed. Spike noticed everything. She drew the sheet back up with a purse of her lips. 

"Spoil sport." 

She laughed softly. "I have to get going soon anyway." 

Spike stubbed out the cigarette, forehead puckering. "What?" 

"I promised Buffy I'd..." Willow trailed off as Spike slid down next to her, fingers trailing lightly down her bare arm. 

"No," he murmured against her shoulder. "You should stay." 

She shifted onto her side, trying to convince herself to climb out of the bed. "Buffy'll be worried." 

"No hurry," Spike insisted quietly. 

Her eyes closed as he pressed a soft kiss against her shoulder, pushing her hair up over the pillow, his lips drifting to the back of her neck. A shiver rippled over her skin.   
His hand worked its way beneath the sheet to cup her breast, thumb strumming over her nipple. Willow caught her bottom lip between her teeth. "Maybe I can stay just a little bit longer." 

"Hum... you can't hear it, but the wind's roarin'. You don't wanna be out there, pet." He traced the curves and dips of her body, feeling her abdomen contract as he stroked her skin. Riding the curve of her hip, Spike urged her leg forward so he could stroke between her legs. His fingers slid inside her and Willow's body arched, her head falling back a little with a soft moan. 

Spike kissed the corner of her mouth and her eyes fluttered open. He watched her eyes as her body ignited, in the half light they were hypnotic. "You're eyes are like starlight."   
His voice was a throaty whisper. Deep and distinctive, rough with arousal it vibrated through her and Willow swallowed. 

He nibbled at her jaw, fingers pushing a little deeper, a little more insistently inside her. "You'll hurt my feelin's if you leave now, love." 

She gave a little snort of disbelief and Spike chuckled. 

His fingers stroking and curling inside her made Willow's whole body tighten. Her hands flexed against the mattress an ache in her bones for more. For everything. "I...I really should go." Even she wasn't convinced by the breathy tone. 

Spike's hand withdrew from between her legs and he licked his fingers with a sound of pleasure. "You really are delicious." Suddenly his hand curled around her throat, holding her steady. Eyes dark with desire met hers. "And the answer is no." 

A whimper left her when she felt his hard cock between her legs, knowing he had won and she wasn't going anywhere. No matter how powerful a witch she was or might be, Willow was sure she would never be able to break the spell Spike held over her. 

He sank inside her with a groan and Willow let out a sharp cry of pleasure, inner muscles clutching tightly to him. 

His lips brushed her ear. "So nice an' warm you are. You'll freeze out there, baby, it's cold outside."


	6. What Christmas Means To Me (spillow)

Spike's lips pursed as he flicked to another channel. Nothing good on the TV tonight. Reluctantly he flipped back to the game show, might as well see if the bloke won the star prize. 

He glanced across the sofa at Willow. She was sitting propped up against the arm, a book about computers resting against her bent knees and her small, bare feet in his lap. Curling his fingers around her slender ankle, his thumb traced the curve slowly back and forth. She had such nice feet, compact with neat nails painted deep shade of red. 

"We should 'ave a night in tonight." 

"Mmm."

"Been ages since we've had a quiet night just the two of us."

"Uh huh." 

His brow puckered. "Thought I might join the Foreign Legion tomorrow." 

"Hum." Willow suddenly looked up. "Did you say the Foreign Legion?"

"I hate to admit it, but I was tryin' to get your attention, pet." 

Willow gave him an apologetic smile. "Sorry, Spike." She closed the book, marking her page with a slip of paper and pushed it on to the coffee table. "What were you saying?"

"You an' me, quiet night in. Fancy it, love?"

Her smile deepened. "There's no better way to spend my night. I'll go and put some popcorn in. Why don't you choose a movie."

"There's a Christmas movie on after this." 

"All right, something to get us into the holiday season." 

Willow trotted out to the kitchen and Spike could hear her pottering about. He heard the microwave closing and whirring its count down. Once it pinged, she returned with a bowl of popcorn, a bottle of soda tucked under her arm and a mug of hot chocolate in her hand. Spike took the mug and bowl of popcorn from her and waited while she pulled a blanket from the back of the sofa and wiggled around, settling comfortably in his lap where she could snuggled in against him. Willow always said he was nice to snuggle with. But she never said it in public. It was their little secret. 

"It's set in Victorian London," Willow observed. 

"Looks like it," Spike agreed. 

"Were your Christmases like that?" she wondered, as the movie opened out to a festive looking living room with stockings on the fireplace and a large tree in the corner with white candles on the branches. 

Spike nodded. "Always liked Christmas. Nothin' like sittin' in front of a fire with a warm mince pie an' a glass of mulled wine with the scent of fresh pine from the Christmas tree fillin' the room. Pine needles were a bugger though, got everywhere." 

"Sounds perfect, Spike." 

His hand cupped her cheek, tipping her head back for a moment so he could kiss her lightly. His eyes met hers. "Almost perfect." 

"I wasn't born then," she said, smiling softly. 

"Mores the pity." 

"I always think Christmas looked nicer back then," Willow admitted, turning back to the screen. 

"It was. Simpler. Some of the first crackers, with proper gifts instead of the rubbish in 'em these days. Candles on the tree always look better than bits of coloured plastic. Me an' mother made paper chains every year, an' we'd thread popcorn and berries. We didn't 'ave tinsel but we used silver gilt and foil for a bit of sparkle." 

"Did you still celebrate Christmas when you turned?" 

"Course we did. We always had a tree, and Angelus always insisted on the wassail. Dru liked making special gifts for us an' Darla never felt it was quite like Christmas without holly all over the place. Our traditions, well, the less you know about them the happier you'll be," he chuckled. "We are vampires after all." 

"You like Christmas, don't you, Spike?" 

"Guess so," he replied, a little unwillingly. 

"You haven't done anything for it this year." 

"You don't celebrate Christmas. Besides, you 'aven't done anything for Hanukah either."

Willow let out a sigh. "I haven't done anything for Hanukah in years. We used to celebrate it as a family when I was younger, but things change, don't they? I'm not sure what I believe in any more. I mean, I'm a witch who practices magic, I know there are Hell God's and Hell dimensions and Goddesses of Magic, yet I was brought up Jewish. I live on the hellmouth and I'm living with a vampire. Religion just sort of clouds the issue even more. I'm not sure where it's supposed to fit in." 

Spike chuckled again and kissed her temple lightly. "You can't do simple, can you, love?" 

Willow's fingers touched lightly to his lips. "Some things in my life are amazingly simple." 

He kissed the tips of her fingers and smoothed her hair back from her face. "Mine too." 

XxX

 

Spike had just about had enough. It had been three days since he and Willow had spent their nice quiet evening together and he was about ready for another one after tonight. He'd managed to get roped in to helping the Slayer keep Anya busy while Willow helped the moron with Anya's secret Christmas present. He'd been out nearly all bloody night patrolling with the both of them and helping the Watcher categorising his never ending supply of books and he was fed up. 

He drew the smoke of his cigarette into his lungs with a violent pull. He had the sneaking suspicion that Anya had been aware of what they were doing as she hadn't complained half as much as Spike had expected. 

Standing on the pavement looking up at the Rosenberg house Spike was glad to be home. 

Home. 

It was his home. Nicer if he had acquired it for his girl by slaughtering the original residents and such like, but he couldn't have it all ways. 

Willow was home, the lights were on and suddenly the curtain twitched and her face appeared in the window. Spike's heart swelled, she was waiting for him. 

A sudden smirk curled his lips, just might be his little witch was looking to express her appreciation for all he'd had to put up with tonight. Stubbing out the cigarette, Spike headed inside, anticipation zinging through his veins. 

"Honey, I'm home!" He sang out as he entered the house. 

He hardly had time to take off his coat before Willow was there, bounding out of the living room with a big smile on her face, her eyes flashing with excitement. "I thought you were never getting here." She grabbed his hand and tugged him forward into the living room. "Merry Christmas, Spike. Surprise!" 

The scent of fresh pine hung in the air and there was a scattering of pine needles over the floor. In the corner of the room stood a Christmas tree, it's branches bare, waiting to be decorated. 

"I've got popcorn, and I've got coloured paper and foil and candles and berries," Willow enthused. 

"Anya and the Slayer were keepin' me busy," Spike realised. "I was never helpin' the Slayer distract Anya, was I?"

Willow laughed. "Not really. I needed them to keep you out while Xander and I got the tree. And I've made you mince pies and wassail and I've got holly too. Everything we need for a proper Christmas. Just like you said. You like it, don't you?" She looked up at him anxiously. 

"Course I do, love. But, you don't celebrate Christmas."

"No," Willow agreed. "But this isn't about me celebrating Christmas or Hanukah or any other religion. It's about doing something nice for you. Giving you something I know you've missed. It all comes down to one thing in the end, loving you like I do every other day of the year. It's just that today there's a tree in the living room." 

Reaching out, his hands cradled her face as her arms slid around his waist and she pressed her palms against the solid planes of muscle bracketing his spine and moved in closer to him. 

"I just want you to be happy, Spike." 

His lips touched to her forehead. "I am, pet. Couldn't by anythin' else with you." 

Slowly, his lips brushed against hers, gradually settling, melding into one, until Willow wasn't sure where she ended and Spike began. Her mind spun and reeled. She held on tightly to Spike, surrendering completely to the delicious sensation of kissing him. 

His tongue caressed hers one last time before he withdrew from the kiss, way before she wanted him to, allowing her to breathe. 

Her eyelashes fluttered and she gazed up at him. His eyes were dark and blazing, but soft in spite of tension she felt in his body. 

"Know what I'm lookin' forward to the most?"

His voice, deep and husky rolled down her spine and Willow shivered. "W...what?" 

"Makin' love to my girl in the light of the Christmas tree." 

Willow let out a sigh. "Happy Holiday's to me."


End file.
